One Door, Three Walls
by MyWhitelighter
Summary: All Teddy Lupin ever wanted to do was make it out of Hogwarts alive, keeping his untouched reputatation within the student population just that - untouched. But with a girlfriend determined to climb the social ladder, a Godfather trying to control his life and several Gryffindors out to destroy him, his seventh year is about to get ugly. All because of that /stupid/ bathroom.
1. An Introduction, Of Sorts

**Lookie, new story! Again. So I've had this written for months and decided what the hell, might as well post it and see if anyone's interested. Eventual Teddy/Victoire, but there's a story to tell before that. So without further ado, here is One Door; Three Walls!**

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**Summary: **All Teddy Lupin ever wanted to do was make it out of Hogwarts alive, keeping his untouched record within the central Hogwarts gossip chain just that - untouched. But with a girlfriend determined to climb the social ladder, a godfather trying to control his life and several Gryffindors out to destroy him, his seventh year is about to get ugly. And all because of that stupid bathroom.

_"Since writing on toilet walls is done neither for critical acclaim nor financial gain, it could be considered the purest form of art. Discuss."_

_Art? You laugh - you can't help it._

_If you walk along the second floor corridor, turn left, then right, then left again then you'll find yourself at a door. Boys, do not be alarmed by the sign that says 'Girls Only', no one really pays attention to that in this case. Open the door. Walk past the faucets, down the tiled floor until you reach the cubicles, it's the third one on the right that you're looking for. You open the door and step inside. You feel guilty for being here, you almost don't want to look - but it's impossible for you to resist the temptation of the cubicle with the power to crumble someone's reputation. One door, three walls. You pray to Merlin that you won't see your name, and find yourself relieved when the most recently added writing has nothing to do with you;_

_#1: Annie Martwell isn't nearly as innocent as everyone thinks. She slept with Guy Fitzburton, and he was going out with her best friend at the time. Classy._

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**Chapter One: ****An Introduction, Of Sorts**

"Do you have _any_ idea what kind of trouble you're in?" Professor McGonagall's voice was dangerously close to a full-fledged screech as she barked out her reprimand, and I had to admit I was impressed. For a woman of her age she had an impressive voice on her, and she could still scare the shit out of any self-respecting student at this school. If Harry thought she was old when _he_ was at school, then she was damn right ancient now; but, yes, she's still 'got it'. "_Well_?" She pressed and I flinched, shrugging my shoulders lightly as I struggled with the buckle on my leather belt.

"I suppose I have an idea," I muttered, but with the way her face contorted furiously I suspected now was a bad time to try and be funny.

Her eyes narrowed. "Well then that makes two of us!" She snapped. I cast a surreptitious side-along glance at the other accused party, my partner in crime Elena Hewitt, and she held back a smile guiltily as she pulled her shirt back over her head. She hid her mortification well. "In a _classroom_, of all places! I expected much better of you both – and you, Mr Lupin! What would your grandmother say if she saw you now? And your Godfather?"

My jaw set tightly. Trust her to bring up _them_. "Are you going to tell them?" I raised my chin defiantly, glaring at her with as much strength as I could muster. Elle brushed a strand of lightly curled brown her behind her ear and chewed her lip apprehensively, no doubt preparing herself for McGonagall's predicted explosion.

Had it been a few years ago, that could well have been McGonagall's _expulsion_. When she was Headmistress times were tough, apparently, but at the end of the day she'd stepped down because she preferred not being at the top of the school. Crazy, right? You work at a place for fifty years and you'd expect her to want to eventually reign over the school, but it it turned out she missed being Head of Gryffindor so much she left her post to go back to it, leaving the _very_ old Filius Flitwick as the new Headmaster.

Merlin's beard, I hear you say, don't they hire _any_ new staff at this school? Flitwick, bless his soul, is on his way out too though. Here we stand seventeen years on from the Battle of Hogwarts, and he's just nearing up to retirement himself. I suppose it's a compliment that the Professors love the school so much they want to stay well past retirement age, but when we're a bunch of spoilt, irritating, I-won't-do-my-homework-no-I-_won't_'s, you have to feel sorry for them.

"I think I'll have to!" McGonagall responded to me furiously, and I watched with mild amusement as a vein popped in the side of her temple. "And _you_, Miss Hewitt! The _Head Girl_, no less – I shall certainly have to rethink your position in this school. What sort of example are you setting for younger students?"

I watched momentary blind panic crossing Elle's features. "Oh, no, Professor, please –" For a girl who rarely lost her perfected composure and relied heavily on her unblemished reputation within school, her stumbling over her words like this was surprising.

"It wasn't her idea – it was mine," I interrupted loudly. "I suggested it, she didn't even want to." Of course that wasn't even _slightly_ true, but I knew how much her reputation meant to her. I'd happily take the fall for her, really.

McGonagall eyed me suspiciously before letting out a frustrated sigh, but not before I noticed a touch of compassion and pride in her eyes – oh yes, always save the day. That's how you win Professor McGonagall over. Acting as chivalrous as a Gryffindor, even if I wasn't one, always made her softer. Teddy Lupin, you are _skilled_.

"It doesn't matter who's responsible, the fact of the matter is that it _happened_," she continued, but her tone wasn't as harsh as before and it was noticeable. "I want to see you both in detention for the next two months – Friday, come to my office at eight and you will be issued with them."

I almost sighed with relief – it was only detention. It could have been a _lot _worse.

"And I want you both to know how deeply disappointed in you I am. This kind of conduct from some of my best students – I simply cannot tell you how much your... choice of location has knocked my respect from you." I winced, but held my ground. Hopefully she didn't notice me swallow guiltily, as I realised I really _did_ hate disappointing her. She'd been a good influence over my time at Hogwarts, and I didn't like the idea of her losing respect for me over some stupid indiscretion. I couldn't show it, though; if you showed any signs of cracking when being told off by her, she always completely slaughtered you, hook, line and sinker. I would know.

"Sorry," Elle mumbled quietly, lowering her head so her gaze was on the ground – I'm sure she's only doing that to hide the fact she's probably trying to contain her laughter. She's a great actress, believe me.

And McGonagall just laps it _right_ up.

"Well I don't expect to _ever_ hear about it happening again. Understood?" She added curtly, but I could see her resolution wavering ever so slightly.

"Yes Professor.

"Yes, Professor."

She made a motion of dismissal with her wrist, and I took Elle's hand and led her out into the corridor – McGonagall was still inside tutting and shaking her head, and no doubt wondering where she might procure some mind bleach to help get rid of the mental image of her Head Girl topless on her desk making out with me.

It's an image I will treasure, I can assure you.

We didn't say a word to each other, just carried on in a tense silence until we reached the end of the corridor – the moment we turned into the next, however, we couldn't quite hold it in any longer and collapsed into fits of laughter.

"Did you – see her _face_?" Elle gasped between laughs, covering her mouth with her hand in mortification and clutching her sides with her other.

"The way she was looking at us, you'd have thought we were Filch and Madame Pince," I winced, thinking of Hogwarts' resident most-disgusting-couple ever, which I was glad to say Elle and I _weren't_. Thank Merlin Pince left in the middle of our fourth year, I can actually walk into the Library without pain of death now.

Elle sobered up after a minute or so. "You know, I bet she's even caught _them_ before. She seems to have a knack for this sort of thing," she giggled, before casting the corridor behind us a withering look. "No wonder she's single."

"That's a bit harsh," I admonished with a raised eyebrow, but chuckled nonetheless. Sometimes Elle doesn't think too hard about how hurtful some of the things she says could be interpreted as, but I know she means well – she just wants to make me laugh, that's all.

"Um, no wonder... she's not very popular with some students?" She tried to amend, biting her lip and looking up at me hopefully. I rolled my eyes, but rewarded her with a kiss on the nose anyway.

"Better," I smiled, brushing some of her dark hair behind her eyes, my hand lingering on her cheek for a few moments.

"Oi, Lupin! Elle!" I heard someone shouting to us from behind, so we turned around to see two very familiar guys jogging up the corridor towards us. This is as good a time for an introduction as any – Lawrence Mavis and Guy Fitzburton, my two best friends. Lawrence, I'll admit, is actually a lot like me. He's got a practical head on him, perhaps a more cynical sense of humour than myself, and a callous indifference to all things academic that I don't quite share. Plus, I'm not entirely sure his blonde hair's even met a comb before, which actually genuinely frustrates me. Essentially he's always been the joker out of all of us, and is completely and utterly useless in a serious situation. I wouldn't begrudge him that, though, everyone needs a laugh every now and then.

Then of course there's Guy Fitzburton; the dark haired dark eyed son of the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic. To put it bluntly, he's always been somewhat of a mystery. Even to me, and I've known him and been, what I hope he considers, one of his best friends for the last six years, and there's still a lot I don't know about him. He's a completely closed book to me, and oftentimes I find myself trying to guess what he's thinking or feeling because he simply doesn't give much away – if he hadn't reassured me that we _are_ friends on many occasions, I wouldn't believe it. I just wouldn't. We see what he allows us to see, and it isn't often we see further than below the surface.

"Word is out that McGonagall caught you two getting it on in a Charms classroom," Lawrence smirked, patting me on the back. I flushed at it being put so crudely, and I shoved him off. This did rather surprise me though, it'd barely happened an hour ago.

"It's on the Walls _already_?" Elle demanded sharply, immediately focusing her attention on Lawrence – he was unperturbed, and simply laughed.

"As if anything could be kept a secret at this school," Guy added smoothly, the corner of his mouth perking upwards and his glittering dark eyes betraying his amusement.

It was still slightly unsettling. "It _has_ only been half an hour," I pointed out. Guy shrugged indifferently, and starting heading back down the corridor.

I wasn't sure if it was an invitation to follow him until he threw back over his shoulder; "And this _is_ Hogwarts."

Well, he was right. This is Hogwarts. Allow me to introduce you to the year 2015. And I can guarantee things will have changed since your last visit. There was a time, back in the golden years some would say, when Hogwarts was ruled by the Slytherins and they held power through their methods of intimidation, bullying and supposed superiority of blood. That, I'll admit, isn't so important anymore. With the downfall of Lord Voldemort (the second time) more people with "superior blood" (which is rare in itself; most purebloods you'll find nowadays are either at least part muggle or inbred to be perfectly honest) found themselves being penalised or punished for thinking in such ways. All due to the new regime – Kingsley Shacklebolt, the best Minister for Magic Britain had seen for generations. Long gone from office I'm afraid, but a legend in his own right. There was a shift in the balance of power all over the country, and that means Hogwarts as well.

Yeah, the Slytherins can still be a pain in the ass when they want to be, and yeah, they still think they're superior to us because their blood is "purer", but the point is that they could be considered an ethnic minority now. With the vacant seat of power it was only a matter of time before another group rose and took it. I can guarantee you won't guess who.

The Hufflepuffs. And I'm _not_ kidding.

The certain kinds of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws that were overlooked in Gryffindor and Slytherin's battle for dominance in the struggle of good against evil, the kinds of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws who will manipulate, lie and cheat to get what they want, the kinds of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws who have been patiently biding their time for their chance to let rip on the unsuspecting students of Hogwarts. I mean, it was only a matter of time before how well known you were, no matter what your blood status, took over. Especially when Filius Flitwick took charge – the guy is so laid back, it's possible to get away with anything and everything, and he'll still remain pretty oblivious to the goings on in the school below him.

(Or above him. Ah, couldn't resist.)

Well, welcome to Hogwarts. Did you come into class with a nicer hairstyle than a Ravenclaw this morning? Better make sure you still have hair by the time you get back to your dorm. Did you make eyes at someone a Hufflepuff has their eye on? Consider yourself uninvited to any impromptu social event for the rest of the year. If you haven't got a well-known and/or rich family, you aren't going to have hundreds of friends. And the worst thing? If you're here to learn, you might even get _bullied_. That's the world Hogwarts is now.

Disgusting, right?

I try to blend in, and I was lucky enough to find myself sorted into Hufflepuff anyway. Apparently I take after my mother. Harry Potter, my Godfather, and my parents being the well-known war heroes that they were, was enough to keep me off the radar from anyone looking to torment people, and I'd actually fallen in with the crowd right in the middle of Hufflepuff. I know what you're thinking – if he thinks it's so bad, why doesn't he do anything about it? Because, to be honest, why should I bother trying? Things have been this way for such long time, anything I try will probably just land me friendless and ostracized, and besides; Elle, Lawrence, Guy, they're all great people. They're the best friends I could ever have asked for, and sure they can be judgemental sometimes but I love them with all my heart, and I like to think my influence reigns them in somewhat.

I'm incredibly lucky with what I've got, and I don't want to try and mess that up.

"I suppose you're right," I sighed, running a hand through my naturally light brown hair – it turned to indigo under my touch, one of my favourites. Oh yeah, I'm also a Metamorphmagus and can change my appearance at will. Fun, right?

Lawrence shrugged as we fell into step behind Guy. "Apparently some fifth year chick spotted McGonagall starting off her tirade at you and ran off to get to the Walls first. Bet she feels pretty damn pleased with herself!" I sighed; I would've been embarrassed, but I just didn't have the energy.

The Walls, though. The centre of all things absolutely and completely morally wrong with this school – the culmination of all the bitchy behaviour I was telling you about. The central Hogwarts gossip chain. The Pit of Hell – well, maybe that's a little extreme. It started off as your regular toilet wall; a girl's toilet, that is, so us guys pretty much had nothing to do with its inception, creation and even its use. Well, I say us guys _mostly_ don't use it, it's generally a place where girls go to vent. It's where the bitchy and deprived girls try and rat out equally bitchy but perhaps not quite as deprived girls by writing rubbish about them.

Believe it or not, a toilet cubicle practically _runs_ the school.

See, some either sane and clever or conniving and sadistic person who was around a few years before we reached the school cast a truth spell on the Walls, so a girl can't just go up there and write anything they like that isn't true to try and do someone in – you can try, but writing on the Walls only shows up if it's true. Which makes them that bit more dangerous.

Everyone likes to pretend they don't look at the Walls – that they don't care what's written there, but the truth is no one can get enough of it. You want to read it. You want to stay up to date with what's happening in the school; you want to see whose reputation is being ruined and whose been making the biggest mistakes of their lives. It's a guilty pleasure for everyone, even if everything about is so incredibly cruel and wrong. I myself try and avoid it; my motto is 'if you don't want people to find out, don't do it'. So I don't, I just keep my head down and my nose clean and hope my name never winds up on there.

"Now that you mention it," I began curiously, throwing an odd look in Guy's direction as we made our way into the Great Hall. The chatter quietened for a brief moment to stare at Elle and I and our intertwined hands, but I ignored them. "I did see something on the Walls about you and a certain Annie Martwell?" I grinned and Guy sniffed noisily, stepping in front of us and heading down to find a seat at the lunch table.

"That's really old news."

"It was written this morning," I pointed out, letting go of Elle to catch up with him.

"If we're going to be pedantic, Theodore, then I suppose its last month's news," he smirked, sitting down and inviting me to join him.

I grimaced. "Don't call me Theodore."

"I apologise."

"You do realise you were going out with Jane Trey at the time, right?" Lawrence laughed, taking a seat across from us.

Guy waved us away with a frown. "All minor details. Besides, I don't ever recall mentioning we were exclusive." Lawrence and I shared a knowing smile before turning to our food. I heard a distinct cough from behind me and looked up into Elle's saccharine sweet smile – she wanted something, I could feel it, and I tried to hide an eye roll.

"Yes, Elle?" I turned brightly. Her smile didn't falter, and she gestured to the fact that there was no room between myself and the Hufflepuff beside me. Also, no comments on the Hufflepuff thing, I take pride in the fact that I take after my mother. At least, that's what Ginny says – she's my Godfather's wife. Besides, Hufflepuffs are cooler than reputation would dictate, you'll see.

Guy raised an eyebrow at Elle and sighed, but obligingly slid up the bench and allowed a space between us for her to sit in. She grinned at me sweetly and reached for a sandwich.

'You might belong in Hufflepuff, where they are just and loyal – those patient Hufflepuffs are true and unafraid of toil'. Ironic, no, that we should have the one of the most scheming and manipulative girls in our house? Ironic, or the sorting hat just isn't as young as it used to be. Here we have the most conniving student to attend Hogwarts at this current moment in time – nope, it's not a Malfoy, let me introduce you to my girlfriend.

Elena Hewitt.

Elle, Elle; how to find words to describe her? Well, without you calling me sentimental jackass, she's amazing. She knows what she wants, and she'll stop at nothing to get it – she's rather short, actually, but when she first arrived in first year she'd be damned if that stopped her rising straight to the top of the social hierarchy. She 'accidentally' spilt yoghurt on one of her biggest rivals in Ravenclaw every day until she admitted Elle's hair was shinier than hers. Even at eleven, and she knew how to get her way – I really admire that ambition and drive. She's a halfblood, her father being the wizard and her mother being the muggle, but she commands the respect of most of the school. She also always tries her best to be upstanding in academics, and she's top of the class in almost everything, and I love her, and she's wonderful. So don't dispute me here, okay?

"Pass me the salt, Teddy, darling?" I was immediately apprehensive. She only ever uses darling when she wants something. I obliged, and cast her a withering look.

"You're up to something," I murmured, and she flicked some of her hair over her shoulder and winked in response.

She smiled. "I'm just... so happy to be with you right now."

"Liar," I grinned, and pecked her on the mouth before returning to my food. "Just make sure whatever you're scheming doesn't involve me, please."

"Of course," she replied without hesitation. "You know I'm always discrete."

I rolled my eyes and was going to add something more when I heard her name being called across the Hall. I turned and saw Alice Finch-Fletchly, also a Hufflepuff and Elle's best friend, waving her over. A wicked grin instantly lit Elle's face and she waved back.

"Oh, I love it when a plan comes together. I've got to go, I'll see you later." She kissed my cheek before getting up and waving as she disappeared into the Entrance Hall.

I sighed. "Missing her already?" Lawrence smirked.

"Maybe."

"You're pathetic."

"Thanks very much, Guy."

* * *

Well, I hope that was somewhat of an introduction for you – a little peek into my mind and what it was like around the beginning of my seventh year, before everything shot to hell. These peaceful times were numbered, let me assure you. It was around the beginning of December when this story really began.

It was a bitter day outside, with biting winds stinging cheeks like a whiplash and sub-zero temperatures sending most sane people inside their common rooms to warm up. Unfortunately, we were not always the sanest people you can find around; mainly when Elle was in charge and she wanted something done, anyway. I wrapped my yellow and black scarf around my neck as I made my way through the Entrance Hall, ready to step out into the grounds. According to Elle, being a Hufflepuff brought responsibility; it was 'crucial' that, whatever the weather, we held our 'spot' during break times. Which so happened to be in the middle of the courtyard next to the fountain with the Hippogriff statues. That one spot apparently meant ultimate superiority over students at lunch, although I had no idea why, and every break time she used to force Guy, Lawrence, Alice, myself and a few other Hufflepuffs to sit there with her in the freezing weather and act like we belong there and whatever.

Chore.

I loved Elle to bits, but she could be a _little_ extreme at times.

I slipped my hands into my pockets after I closed the Great Oak Doors behind me and made my way back round the side of the school. Summer happened to be my favourite season – much happier and nicer than winter that made you freeze to pieces. Winter, the only season that hates you! I shook my head tiredly as I crossed the grass until I reached the loggia style corridor that surrounded the central courtyard.

It was only then that I noticed that I was the first one there – yet, I wasn't. A girl sat there reading her book silently, her long straight hair resembling the colour of sand a little, but darker, hid her face from view as she leant forward from her seat on the edge of the fountain. Why was she even sitting there? That was the Hufflepuff spot – and if Elle caught her there she'd be skinned alive. Not a pretty sight. My pace slowed to a hesitant step as I approached, wondering whether to tell her to leave or to let Elle get to her.

Nah, no one's worth that.

I walked out through an archway from the corridor into the courtyard and made my way over to her – as I got closer, I noticed that she was a Gryffindor, judging by the red lining along her robe.

"Hello?" I asked hesitantly as I stood in front of her. I was well aware of how neat and orderly her uniform seemed to be – as Flitwick doesn't really care much, most students tend to scruff it up a little. I mean I personally only roll up my cloak sleeves and loosen my tie, but I know a few other people who take a few more, well, _liberties_, when it comes to showing Puff pride in the dull garb. Suffice to say sometimes I get sick of seeing yellow. Her golden and scarlet striped tie was tightened right up to her top button, which was also done up, and I stared lazily down at my own loose yellow and black tie.

When I spoke she looked up, and I realised she'd been reading a book whilst sitting there. She stared at me blankly and tucked a strand of her straight hair behind her ear before blinking at me curiously.

"Um, hi?" She answered uncertainly. "Can I help you?"

"You, er, you really shouldn't sit there," I muttered, glancing around me edgily. What if someone saw? The girl closed her book softly.

"Why not?" She asked, a little bemused.

"This is where the Hufflepuffs sit," I prompted, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world – which, it was, and if she knew what was good for her she'd steer clear of this seat.

The girl just blinked disbelievingly. "Oh I, um, sorry. I didn't know that. But, ah, I'm already here so, er, couldn't the Hufflepuffs just sit somewhere else?" She gestured to her bag with her school books in lying beside her.

I grew a little more irritated – Elle and the others would be here soon, and if she was still here she'd be skinned alive. As, I think, I've already mentioned. "You don't understand," I urged, my frustration creeping into my voice. I became increasingly aware of a few surrounding students leaning along the walls enclosing the courtyard throwing us suspicious looks, and the painful thought of what could end up on the Walls if I spent too much time talking to her crossed my mind. Stupid toilet cubicle rules with an iron fist. Or, wall. Door?

"Guy, you're disgusting." I heard a disgruntled tone echo from the loggia that I could immediately identify as being Elle and alarm bells began ringing in my mind.

"And you, my dear girl, are delectable. But you don't see me telling you off for it." Came Guy's baritone reply. I could almost see Elle's eye roll, and I myself couldn't help feeling the little bubble of irritation at the fact that Guy couldn't keep his dirty comments away from _my_ girlfriend. But focusing more on the matter at hand, they sounded close - I had to get this girl out of here.

In my desperation I took the book she was reading out of her hands and shoved it back into her bag, ignoring her indignant cry as I pulled the rest of her schoolbooks into a disgruntled heap in the bottom of it. I glanced around me and knew we had barely a few seconds – call me dramatic, but you're new to this game – you have _no idea_ what Elle can be like, what she can do. Maybe someday you'll get a chance to see it in action.

Hey, who am I kidding, if you stick around through the rest of my seventh year then you'll _definitely_ see it.

"Excuse me?!" The Gryffindor snapped as I pulled her roughly packed bag up from its position next to the fountain.

"Sorry," I muttered, but I didn't really mean it. Looking around once more I pulled her up from the fountain by the hand, and sped off in the opposite direction to where the voices were coming from. The Gryffindor's wriggling and shouts to get free made dragging her along behind me difficult, but I kept a firm grip on her hand and tried not to drop the bag I held in the other. Lacking an actual destination in mind, I headed towards the Greenhouses, purely because they were nearby and were an area I was familiar with – all Hufflepuffs know their way around the Greenhouses. If you're ever sorted there I'm sure you'll find that out.

The girl didn't stop protesting loudly and trying to wrench her hand free all the way there, and it was only after I slipped us both into Greenhouse Three that I took it on myself to shut her up.

Dropping her bag to the floor I quickly covered her mouth with my hand and glanced around, hoping her shouts hadn't woken any of the sleeping plants. The air in the Greenhouse was humid, just like it always was, with the familiar clicks and sounds I'd come to associate with them and the insects and plant-life that inhabited them. Following suit, the girl stopped speaking and also looked around, furrowing her eyes in confusion. She reached up to her mouth and slowly pulled my hand away, giving me a sceptic look.

"Why did you bring me here?" She spoke in hushed tones, as if reluctant to make noise in the Greenhouse – exactly my intention. I was about to respond before her expression suddenly grew angry and she smacked me on the arm. "Who the hell do you think you are?!" Her voice rose, and she paused to keep it in check, stepping towards me in what I'm sure she hoped was a menacing way. "You can't just drag me off like some kind of hostage and expect me to be _okay _with that!"

I sighed. I'd seen much more menacing things in my lifetime, and the girl's anger didn't intimidate me in the slightest. "Sorry, but you don't understand what –"

"No, _you_ don't understand. Everyone thinks just because I'm new here they can push me around, or – or – drag me to Greenhouses for my 'safety'!" she huffed, her face growing red with indignation and she smacked me again. I gave her a hurt look and my other hand went to the smacked spot on my arm. She tried to reach past me to get to her bag but I stepped in front of her.

I ignored her outburst, one thing confusing me. "You're new here?" The girl didn't reply, merely narrowing her eyes in response. "How new?"

She hesitated. "I just started this week," she replied defensively.

I stopped myself from breathing out a sigh of relief – so it wasn't that she was trying to undermine Elle, she just didn't _know_. "Well now it makes sense," I forced a laugh, but the girl ignored me, instead pushing past so that she could pick up her bag from the floor.

Standing up slowly, she looked at me, curiosity getting the better of her. "What makes sense?"

"That you don't understand what happens to you, if..." I shoved my hands in my pockets. "If you cross the Hufflepuffs."

Her gaze was instantly drawn to the tie that hung loosely around my neck, and my hems revealing canary yellow fabric. She raised an eyebrow.

"Well, you can't do anything to me – not when I don't even know what I did _wrong_," she huffed, making her way to the door of the Greenhouse and placing her hand on the handle.

"Wait!" I called, an idea forming in my mind. "You said that people were pushing you around because you were new," This got her attention. I saw her twitch a little at the door, but she didn't look back. Or respond. "That's what happens at Hogwarts – but I could help you."

There was no way I wanted this girl striking out on her own in a school like this. Unless you knew the 'rules', you wouldn't survive, and this girl _definitely _didn't know the rules, as she demonstrated just now.

"What's your name?" I asked softly.

She paused, before turning around. "Kirsty. Kirsty Tinner," She dropped her bag with a sigh and I grinned.

"I'm Teddy – Teddy Lupin."

* * *

Meeting Kirsty was when the whole thing started. I guess you never really notice how the smaller events can affect the bigger ones, but there you are. I spent the next couple of weeks trying to break her in, getting her used to all the different social customs and norms to be found around Hogwarts – and that wasn't easy, believe me. Giving someone a crash course in etiquette that had built up over six years in a matter of weeks was sodding _hard_. Kirsty pointed out to me so many times that it was all ridiculous, that we all made a huge fuss over nothing, and for the most part I couldn't help but agree with her. It did seem silly, but there wasn't a lot we could do about it – and that was my resolute opinion, and one of the many things she and I disagreed on.

"Well why don't you just ditch the Hufflepuffs and come and sit with the Gryffindors for the afternoon? I know Jessie Burke's pretty fond of you, it's not like you'd be unwelcome." It was an idea she'd been trying to bring me round to for a couple of days now, but I simply shook my head as we walked down the fifth floor corridor.

"I can't do _that_," I laughed, but still trying to press the idea into her. "Elle would have my head if I don't sit at the fountain. And besides, the Gryffindors hate me. Jessica Burke only likes me because I once pulled her cat down from a tree in third year."

Kirsty raised an eyebrow. "And who told you that?" I gave her a quizzical look, not quite sure what she meant. "I mean, who told you that that was the reason she likes you?"

"Guy, probably. Why?"

"Only that you're one of the sweetest, most genuine boys at this school, and it's easy to see that _that_ is the reason why everyone adores you," she turned as we reached the Muggle Studies classroom, one of her favourite classes. "And it's just a shame that you're wasted on the likes of them." She threw a glance over to where Guy was stood with Lawrence outside History of Magic, adjusting his tie and trying to examine his reflection in a suit of armour.

I chuckled. "Hey, they are still my friends you know, quit with the snide remarks." She didn't reply. "Are you sure you're not interested in meeting them?"

Kirsty made a face. "Not if they're still calling me your new _toy_. It's sick, Teddy. Find some new friends." I could only scratch the back of my neck awkwardly and offered her a sheepish smile, a blush colouring my cheeks. "Sorry. I'll see you after class?" She sighed.

"Sure thing." She waved, and headed on into the classroom and I wandered back over to the History of Magic crowd.

"Tell me, Theodore," Guy began, as he smoothed down his fringe. "That you weren't blowing us off for the ginger newbie again?"

I sighed. "She's not even ginger, Guy. Find yourself some new material."

"Yeah Guy – Dominique is the ginger one, remember?" A flash of vague recognition passed over Guy's face, but I hardly expected him to genuinely remember her. He tended not to remember people who didn't directly relate to him, and the sister of his best friend's childhood friend hardly counted as important to him.

Now see, that's the other part of this story I have yet to tell – one whole new, entirely different can of worms. Victoire Weasley. She's not the start of this story, but she's the end. She's always been the end. But at this point, she wasn't even the beginning. We'd been friends for as long as I could remember, and she was only a year behind me at Hogwarts. I remember when I was _really_ small, Gran used to bring me round to see Bill's daughter, telling me it was some kind of playdate. But she's been there for me through most things – tough homework situations, sticky uncertain fights with Elle, and even situations where I drank slightly too much and wasn't feeling too great. I liked to think it's vice versa too, but in all honesty in retrospect she always gave more to that friendship than me, and it's still a source of eternal guilt.

"Speaking of which, when will Victoire be gracing us with her presence again? I must say, I miss her being around," Guy finally turned back to face us, the smallest of smirks on his face. "Especially since her curves filled out."

"Guy," I warned.

He put up two hands in surrender. "Off-limits, I know, I know. But she has been looking positively delectable this year."

"You already said delectable today," Lawrence pointed out. "When you were talking about Annie Martwell?" Guy paused for the smallest of moments.

"Then perhaps we'll settle for sack-worthy."

"_Guy_."

"Off-limits, I know."

I growled as we headed into the classroom. "Well at least _act_ like you know. Don't test me."

He held up his hands in surrender as he took the seat behind me. "I wouldn't dream of it, Theodore."

From what I could surmise from Harry's recollections of his time at Hogwarts, while some things were so different you wouldn't think they were the same school, some things really never changed. History of Magic was one of those things; it seemed rather pointless to sack Binns, seeing as he was dead, so the class remained another one of those that you could sit back and relax in. I'd fallen asleep so many times in that stuffy classroom I've lost count completely. Apparently for me, unfortunately, I wasn't going to get the chance that particular December morning.

I felt something sharp poke me in the back and I turned, throwing the perpetrator a quizzical glance. It was Alice Finch-Fletchly; the girl was unavoidable. She seemed to have swapped places with Guy, but seeing as he was engaged in an intense flirtation with Cassadee Brenup a few seats down the aisle; I wasn't at all surprised I'd been sold out for a pretty Ravenclaw. "What?" I asked Alice, keeping my voice low.

"Elle wants to talk to you. She says it's urgent."

I raised an eyebrow. "Couldn't Elle come and tell me this herself?" I peered round her to the back of the classroom, where she was sat determinedly staring out of the window. It was clear she knew I was looking, but was staring resolutely in the other direction. I sighed, wondering what I must have done wrong this time.

Alice shrugged. "She said to give you this." She handed me a neatly folded piece of parchment and smiled blankly.

"Well, tell _Elle_ that I'll talk to her after class, and to stop using you as an owl." Alice seemed unsure what to do with this information; I thought sardonically that the idea of being anything other than Elle's personal slave probably confused her. I shook my head and turned around, facing the front again. Binns was rambling on about some old goblin war (it was _always_ the goblins), and the tale of Briddle the Brave was the peculiar backdrop for me unfolding the small piece of parchment where only a few words were written, in Elle's familiar cursive hand.

_Meet me in the Entrance Hall at half past five, we have urgent things we need to discuss. Come alone. E._

Well, I thought with a raised eyebrow; that looks ominous.

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**Like it? Hate it? Don't quit your day job? If I get enough of a response I'll consider writing the rest out. :) You know the drill!**

**~MyWhitelighter**


	2. Hurling Hippogriff Feathers

**Thanks for all your feedback! Hopefully you guys will like this chapter. :) If you like it, hate it, ****_anything_**** - I'd love to hear from you, all your reviews mean to much to me. But without further ado, here is chapter two! (A poet and I didn't even- I can't do that to you. I can't.)  
Warning: There is a little more profanity in this chapter; not sure if that bothers people but the warning is out there just in case.**

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**Summary: **All Teddy Lupin ever wanted to do was make it out of Hogwarts alive, keeping his untouched record within the central Hogwarts gossip chain just that - untouched. But with a girlfriend determined to climb the social ladder, a godfather trying to control his life and several Gryffindors out to destroy him, his seventh year is about to get ugly. And all because of that stupid bathroom.

_"Since writing on toilet walls is done neither for critical acclaim nor financial gain, it could be considered the purest form of art. Discuss."_

_Art? You laugh - you can't help it._

_If you walk along the second floor corridor, turn left, then right, then left again then you'll find yourself at a door. Boys, do not be alarmed by the sign that says 'Girls Only', no one really pays attention to that in this case. Open the door. Walk past the faucets, down the tiled floor until you reach the cubicles, it's the third one on the right that you're looking for. You open the door and step inside. You feel guilty for being here, you almost don't want to look - but it's impossible for you to resist the temptation of the cubicle with the power to crumble someone's reputation. One door, three walls. You pray to Merlin that you won't see your name, and find yourself relieved when the most recently added writing has nothing to do with you;_

_**#2**__: Cassadee Brenup wears a thong to History of Magic. Trying to catch the attention of a certain Professor, weirdo?_

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**Chapter Two: Hurling Hippogriff Feathers**

I never meant to write everything down like this – truthfully, I never expected to remember events in such excruciating detail, but these past twenty-four hours in solitary confinement were far too much time to simply _sit_ and do nothing. Or even think. I didn't particularly enjoy the notion of having to think over the last seven months, my train wreck of a seventh year, especially since retrospective narrative has never been one of my strong suits. Still, you've had your introduction, and now it's time to get down to business. I'll try and help you out where I can, highlight important points of the story you might need for later, but ultimately my best advice for now is to read, lie back and think of England. I know that's what I do.

Where did I finish last time? Oh, that's right. 12th December, 2015. Alice Finch-Fletchly had just handed me a note that had the bottom of my stomach twisting in the middle of History of Magic, and all thoughts of my catching up on some lost sleep were completely gone as my gaze was drawn to my girlfriend sitting upright at her desk by the window, diligently taking notes as if Briddle the Brave was giving her the account of his life himself, instead of it falling so dully from the mouth of our dead teacher.

The thing that irked me the most was that she _knew_ what kind of effect her note would have. I was busy wracking my brains trying to come up with what possibly I could've done wrong to warrant the impersonal tone of the note, and irritated me that she just ignored the looks I was sending her. Elena Hewitt liked to play games, and I always ended up going along with it. The thing was, she always won. I'd resigned myself to my fate before I'd even left the classroom.

"Hey, Elle –" I caught her arm as she made to leave, and she gave me a dazzling smile that I didn't believe for a second. She made a show of kissing me on the cheek and walking away before I could get another word in, and I sighed. Merlin only knew I had _no_ idea what to do with this girl.

Guy was just leaving the classroom himself, Cassadee Brenup on his arm and him nodding along with whatever she was saying as if she were the most enthralling person in the world, but it didn't take a genius to work out that it was a ruse. Guy Fitzburton liked to have sex, and he was also very good at playing with his food.

"Guy, can I talk to you for a second?" I asked, throwing a look at Cassadee that told her she clearly wasn't invited into the conversation. She detangled her arm from Guy's and gave him a small smile, promising to talk to him later. Guy didn't return the sentiment as he spotted something distasteful near the hem of her _very_ short skirt as she walked away. He grimaced. I didn't even want to know what he'd seen.

Straightening his jacket, he fell into step beside me. "What can I do for you, Theodore?"

"I was wondering if you if anything was up with Elle," I began, and his expression already turned sour. He hated being caught up in what he liked to call 'domestics' between Elle and myself, but he at least gave marginally better advice than Lawrence. "It's just she's sent me a cryptic note again saying she wants to meet, and she wouldn't talk to me and I'm _worried_."

Guy was lazy in his response. "And you're sure it's not some kind of booty call?"

"That's what girls give _you_ Guy, not me. And besides, you know Elle and I haven't..." I trailed off.

A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. "Locked things down?"

"Don't be crass."

"Don't be a prude. Am I the only one who finds it slightly disturbing that the closest you two have gotten was in a classroom while McGonagall was around the corner? There are treatments for that kind of thing."

I sighed. It was a little stupid of me to assume I'd get anything useful out of him, but he seemed to sense my frustration.

"I haven't heard anything from her, no," he supplied, sobering up for a moment. "She's probably just annoyed you didn't coordinate what colour socks you're wearing today to go with her bracelet, I really wouldn't worry yourself."

I wasn't so convinced. Although calling me out on petty things was definitely a favourite past-time for Elle. "You reckon?"

"I'm _certain_," Guy pressed as we headed down to the Great Hall for lunch. "As much as it baffles me, you two always seem to work things out. So don't worry about it." I did my best to believe him, and lunch was a much more appealing idea than thinking about arguing with Elle so I settled down at the Hufflepuff table and decided to just tuck in and forget about it until this evening. Unsurprisingly, she was nowhere to be seen.

It wasn't often that post was delivered at lunchtime, so it was mildly embarrassing to have everyone stare at the familiar barn owl that screeched into the Hall in the middle of my Quiche Lorraine, and when he dropped a letter in front of me and nipped on my ear for a scrap of food, I begrudgingly let him at the remainders of my dish. I wasn't that hungry anyway.

"We've got to work on that screeching thing," I told the owl as I opened the letter. "It's unbecoming." As an afterthought; "Unless you learn to screech that new Bubble Cauldron song, in which case I could probably forgive you."

I pulled the letter out of the envelope and scanned it, my eyes widening when I realised who was writing.

_Teddy,_

_I realise it's been a while since I've gotten the chance to write, and for that I really am sorry! Work's been piling down here in the MLE, but Ginny tells me you've been doing well at school regardless of whether I check up on you or not. How are you? What've you been up to recently? I know in your last letter you mentioned a couple of side projects for Transfiguration – how did you get on with those? Ginny also tells me you're still with Elle, which is fantastic to hear. She's a really charming girl, that. So genuine—_

I snorted.

_—you're very lucky. Give her my best._

_In regards to your Grandmother, she's doing very well. Yesterday I sat in on her session with Dr. Richmond, and he tells me she's been making some fantastic progress. She's been asking about you, and can't wait to have you home for Christmas. Neither can I, to be perfectly honest, but I wouldn't begrudge you your last Christmas at Hogwarts. Will you be staying with us again this year? You know we'd love to have you, and James simply adores you so we'd be honoured if you'd consider it._

_Now don't hate me for this – but the deadline was closing in here at the MLE for taking on next summer's round of internships, and I know we haven't really discussed it but I took the liberty of entering in an application for you. I'm not trying to make you come here, I promise, but the Magical Law Enforcement Department is a very popular one, and I wanted to make sure all your options were kept firmly open. And I know you hate thinking about the future, but time is running out Ted. At least give it some thought._

_All my love,_

_Harry._

His neat signature decorated the bottom of the page and I let out a frustrated sigh as I folded the letter back up and stuffed it into the envelope.

"You okay Ted?" Lawrence asked, as he slid into the seat opposite me.

"Harry again. Always _future future future_. I've got time, haven't I? And I definitely don't want to head into _his_ bloody department at the Ministry."

Guy raised a questioning brow. "He's Head Auror, isn't he? What did the MLE ever do to you?"

"Nothing, it's just," I shifted uncomfortably. "I've spent the majority of my school life trying my very best _not_ to be referred to as Harry's Godson. If I spend the rest of my life working under him, it's like signing off everything I've tried to build for myself."

Guy smirked. "Now see, that's where you and I will never see eye to eye. I just love using my mother's reputation to my own advantage."

"She's Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic," Lawrence raised an eyebrow. "That's a _great_ thing to throw around."

"And Head Auror isn't?" Guy countered. "Look, Theodore – you're making too much out of this. You're blessed enough to have been given a head start in the Wizarding world. Use it."

I grumbled. "I've always hated playing dirty." Perhaps my reaction wouldn't have been quite so anti-Harry if he hadn't been pressing the issue for months already. Admittedly I'd been a little vague about what I wanted to do with my future, but just because I didn't have a clear idea didn't mean I was totally clueless. I wanted to make something out of myself, something out of the Lupin name, so everyone wouldn't instantly associate it with "war hero" or "werewolf", or even "Harry Potter". I could understand my Godfather's concern, but it was completely unfounded and his desire to kick me into gear only served in giving me more of a reason not to even think about it.

"Sounds to me like a classic case of Daddy-knows-best," Kirsty remarked as she threw a fish to a Hippogriff in Care of Magical Creatures later that day. We'd been building up relationships with the majestic animals for weeks, and Professor Farquhar seemed to be hinting at the idea that we might get to _ride_ them any day now, something that made me feel a little ill to my stomach. Sure, it sounded great on paper, but these things were dangerous.

I dug into my own bucket for a fish. "Oh, he's not – Harry's not my dad," I flushed, slightly embarrassed. She was a muggleborn and she was new, I reminded myself, and I couldn't expect her to instantaneously know everything about Harry Potter and his relationship to me, and especially not my dead parents.

She sensed my embarrassment, thankfully. "Oh, sorry, I just assumed –"

"It's fine," I pressed, throwing the fish and watching as my Hippogriff, Dartagne, caught it in his beak with a sickening crack. "Yuck."

"Either way," Kirsty continued, clearing her throat to recover from the brief bout of awkwardness. "He sounds like a pretty successful man, right?"

I snorted. "Putting it mildly." Survived the killing curse, defeated a Dark Lord, married with three kids. Just your average success story.

"So he probably just wants the same for you, and he's recommending it the only way he knows how – through his own job."

I pondered this for a minute, wondering if there was an element of truth to what she was saying. "I guess that makes sense," it was certainly different from whatever had come spewing from Guy's mouth. It was nice to get a refreshing, outsider's point of view rather than rehashing the same conversations with Guy and Lawrence that I'd been having for years already. There were some things the three of us weren't destined to agree with each other about – money, adulthood and sense of style. And that was something that didn't change after seventh year was over, either, let me assure you.

Kirsty was easy to talk to, and although there were a lot of things we still didn't exactly see eye to eye over (like just how high maintenance being at Hogwarts was, despite how all the evidence should suggest to the contrary) there was something distinctly relaxing about dropping all the carefully built walls of social etiquette of the last six years. Until I no longer had to worry about who might be watching me and spreading rumours about me, I didn't realise how much _effort_ I put into trying to maintain a flawless persona, and how much I was restricting my own freedom. Honestly, I just found myself caring less. And I liked it.

Lost in my thoughts I didn't realise Kirsty had become involved in a stare off with Dartagne, who had long since lost interest in me since I stopped feeding him fish. I could tell their eyes had been locked on each other's for a while, and the flare in Dartagne's nostrils told me he wasn't going to back down – and if Kristy looked away now, she could be in for a nasty surprise for her defiance of Dartagne this long. It was a stalemate.

"Kirsty," I warned, and she gave me an almost imperceptible nod of her head.

"I know. Could you, um, get Professor Farquhar please?" Her voice had dropped to a low note, and I could tell her resolve was weakening. In my eagerness to get hold of the Professor so he could pull Dartagne from the standoff, I tripped and dropped my bucket, fish falling everywhere and the loud _clang _of metal on stone startling the animal.

With a screech, Dartagne reared up and flapped his wings madly, ready to come down and attack Kirsty who had stumbled backwards into a ball on the floor, holding up an arm to protect herself from the impact that never came. Not after my bucket collided with his face, anyway.

"Watch it, feathers!" I hollered, trying to draw his attention away from Kirsty. Disorientated, Dartagne shook his head from side to side and his muscles rippled, something I became acutely aware of as he turned to face me, a growl reverberating at the bottom of his throat. "_Shit_."

Bracing myself for talons or hooves or even a sodding _beak_ I couldn't be more surprised when all I heard was a scuffle, a squawk and the sound of heavy hoof beats on the ground. I peaked open one eye to try and work out why I wasn't mauled on the floor, when I saw Dartagne, muzzled (and by the look on his face, humiliated) and held in place by a chain attached to his neck. Professor Farquhar stood holding the other end looking at me sternly.

He cleared his throat. "Mr. Lupin – might I suggest, for the sake of your life if not your NEWT, that you _avoid_ throwing steel objects at my hippogriffs?"

I gaped open-mouthed, aware that the rest of the class were now spying on the proceedings, but my heart was still racing and I could feel my limbs trembling with relief that forming words didn't exactly come easy. "Uh, yes sir," I stuttered, and he seemed to sympathize.

"I'll go take Dartagne somewhere to cool down," he stroked the neck of the animal slowly, and this was the point I realised he _must_ be some kind of animal whisperer, because that thing had been ready to maul both Kirsty and I only moments ago, and now he was allowing himself to be soothed, even while being muzzled. "I suggest you and Miss Tinner do the same. Take the rest of the lesson off, I'll see you tomorrow." Making a clicking noise with his tongue he tugged the hippogriff after him and headed for the edge of the forest.

The rest of the class, all seemingly silent, and the rest of the hippogriffs all sat grazing as if nothing had happened, and I found once again that I _hated_ being the centre of attention. Heading over to Kirsty I held out my hands and helped her to her feet, and I could tell she was shaking just as much as I was.

"Close one, huh?" I forced a laugh. "Farquhar says we get the rest of the lesson off."

She managed a weak smile. "Lucky us."

"What happened?" I asked, referring to her standoff with Dartagne.

"I don't know," she answered honestly, shrugging her shoulders. "We've been working with them for so long now, I got comfortable. I guess I got a little cocky –" She threw a look down to where Professor Farquhar was calming the agitated creature. "And Dartagne didn't like that." I could feel her tremble again and felt like keeping her standing on the grounds with many more of the same animal wasn't exactly good for her psyche.

I put an arm around her shoulders to help support her and led her away from the prying eyes of the seventh year class, who dispersed to go back to their own work with their respective hippogriffs. In the end I didn't know what else to do, so I simply took her to a deserted Greenhouse to cool off – a little reminiscent of the day we first met and I managed to drag her all the way out here just so she wouldn't sit in the wrong place. After a few weeks spent listening to how silly we were all being, I could scarcely remember _why_ it was so important that she not sit at the fountain where the Hufflepuffs sat. Who cares? It was a bunch of trivial nonsense, and it was getting boring.

Taking her cloak off because of the humidity, Kirsty sat down on the steps leading to the higher level.

"Thanks," she offered after a few minute's silence. "For throwing that bucket."

I grinned. "If I'd had another missile to hand, I would've used one that ended up with less fish gunk over my arms." I gestured to my already discarded cloak with a suspicious smell rising from it.

"It was effective," she said.

"That's one way of putting it."

"In any case," she pressed. "Thanks. Now I don't want to owe you anything, so I'll just do your Charms homework for the next few weeks and we'll call it quits, okay?"

I laughed outright. "Okay." After a few minutes we managed to ease into idle chatter, and I like to think I managed to take her mind off her near-injury-experience, but time was ticking by. I liked to make sure I was a reasonably upstanding student, and that usually meant turning up to classes on time. While having the rest of the lesson off for Care of Magical Creatures, that didn't mean I was free for the rest of the day, but Kirsty didn't seem keen on me leaving.

After reminding her I had Ancient Runes and getting to my feet she bit her lip, and seemed like she wanted to say something but didn't. Something clenched inside my chest as I realised how shaken up she still looked, and I deliberated for a few moments. I _should_ go to class, I really should, but my inner chivalrous Gryffindor seemed to want to take over and my significantly larger inner Hufflepuff was all for sharing the love and doing mediocre in all my academics.

I sighed, already resigned to my decision as I sat back down. It was only Ancient Runes after all, and it was worth it to see Kirsty's face light up. Little did I know that that would be the start of one long, downward spiralling road – it was only Ancient Runes then, it was only one hour out of my education that I would miss, but it had more of a knock on effect on me than I would come to realise for a long time. But at the time, I wasn't concerned about that. I had a friend in need and that was what was most important. To this day I don't regret it, and given the chance I would do it all over again, but retrospect lets you see how things started and that's a gift I wouldn't want to lose.

"You do realise now you'll have to do my Charms _and_ my Ancient Runes homework?"

"I don't take Ancient Runes!"

"Better start learning, then."

* * *

Half past five came earlier than I would've liked, and as I jogged up the stairs from the Dungeons (that's where the Hufflepuff common room is, but you didn't hear it from me) I couldn't help but feel like I was heading straight to my own funeral. Elle hadn't breathed a word to me all day – during break time at the fountain even while I diligently sat next to her as I knew I should, she was too busy completely enraptured by whatever she and Alice Finch-Fletchly were talking about. Guy was away doing... quite likely something disgusting that I didn't want to know, and Lawrence had been playing absentee a lot recently so I was left to pick at my scarf and pretend to be interested in the ladybug ambling across the top of the stone hippogriff's head. I almost envy insects and their intelligence-less existence.

I entered the Entrance Hall hesitantly, nerves crawling around my stomach when I didn't see Elle immediately, but decided that might be for the best. _Urgent matters to discuss_. What was that even supposed to _mean_? Normally if she wanted to talk to me about something she'd just do it; she's had no problem in the past. Not to mention if she were trying to hook me for some kind of – how did Guy put it? – booty call, she didn't need all the cryptic messages. No, I knew Elle far too well for this to be anything but bad news, and it was only now rocking me to my core just what she wanted to talk to me about.

Just as I was ambling absently around the Entrance Hall, heading to the steps that led up to the rest of the castle, I spotted someone huddled in the corner just at the back of the staircase. Half hoping and half dreading that it might be Elle I made my way over, surprised when I heard before I saw their body racked with sobs. It wasn't Elle, but it was a girl I'd already half-spoken to today.

"Cassadee?" I asked tentatively, not wanting to startle her. She lifted a tear-stained face to me and quickly tried to wipe her eyes. I found it hard to believe that any amount of rubbing could alleviate the mascara-coloured tear tracks, but I let her believe it was working. "Are you okay?"

She sniffled loudly in answer, and I immediately felt silly for asking. I stood there awkwardly hovering for a few moments, not quite sure what I was supposed to do, and it was clear she'd probably prefer to be alone. We may not be friends, and I may barely know her, but no one deserved to be upset like this. It was that inner Hufflepuff in me I was talking about. Offering her the smallest of affectionate touches on her shoulder, I turned to leave, so it surprised me when she actually did speak up.

"Your friend Guy is a jerk."

Somehow, I wasn't surprised this was the problem.

I offered her a rueful smile. "I know." I did. I _did_ know. I didn't even need to ask what he'd done, or what he hadn't done, because I'd heard it all before. Guy could be poison when he wanted to be, and the worst thing was that he hardly cared when he was and when he wasn't. Other people's feelings never entered the equation, hell; they probably never even entered his mind.

She frowned at my simple acceptance, and I wondered if she'd been expecting me to defend him. "Then why do you hang out with him?"

At times like this, I didn't know. When I was faced with the cold hard reminder of how wicked and heartless he could be, I didn't want to – I didn't want to be around him. So I simply remained silent, unsure of what I should say. Because sometimes; in the briefest, fleeting moments, Guy became a real person. But I could hardly say that, could I?

I simply shrugged, and she scoffed at me before turning to wipe her eyes some more. I wanted to ask what was wrong, but I felt like by not instantly agreeing her and admitting that at times I enjoyed his company I'd taken away that right. Luckily, or unluckily as one might say, I was torn from my indecision by a voice calling my name from the foot of the steps. Turning around I spotted Elle, her expression blank and still looking stunning in a simple jumper and pleated skirt. I couldn't help it – she always completely took my breath away. With a final look at Cassadee I took off after my girlfriend, following where she beckoned until she led me off into one of the odd side rooms in the Entrance Hall I always felt held no real purpose.

I cleared my throat as we walked in silence; she seemed to be deep in thought and I was reluctant to disturb her, but I was sure my hair turning a fierce shade of green gave away my embarrassment (as if I wasn't an open book enough). She looked up at me as it did so, and eyed it with what I could only tell as being an affectionate smile dancing across her mouth, and it comforted me. She may not have meant it that way, but it did.

"Should I be worried?" I asked, trying to keep the mood light.

She didn't reply straight away, merely fiddled with the hem of her shirt. "You're probably wondering why I –"

"Can we just," I cut across her, feeling heavy all of a sudden. "Not just dance around it?" I took one of her hands in my own and she let me, even opting to lace her fingers with mine. It looked like what she was saying was difficult for her to get out.

"People have been talking," she began hesitantly, as if trying to decide the best way to go about this.

"About what?"

"You. And Kirsty Tinner."

Suddenly, the reason for me being there hit me like a ton of bricks. I wondered why I hadn't been expecting this encounter for weeks now, with my newfound friend definitely being the source of numerous rumours at her lack of etiquette. I hated it, but I wasn't sure how I should be reacting to this. Elle, _my_ Elle, was looking unsure of herself and that in itself was so astounding that I didn't know what to do.

"What have they been saying?" I managed to get out.

Elle bit her lip and refused to look at me. "That you two are..."

"Are?" I prompted, trying to keep the bite from my tone. She didn't honestly _believe_ them, did she?

She detected the ice behind the prompt and finally looked me in the eye, a steely stare settling there. "Carrying on behind my back." I almost laughed at her choice of language, but quite frankly I was getting a little irritated. I'd been dating this girl for eighteen months – it wasn't the first time I'd been falsely accused of cheating on her and it wouldn't be the last, I didn't understand why she was letting herself be bothered by it this time.

I scoffed. "You don't honestly believe them, do you Elle?" A flicker of uncertainty passed over her eyes and I was so dumbfounded to see it there I had no idea what to say. "_Elle_?" I pressed, flabbergasted.

"I don't know what to think," she replied hotly, finally pulling her hand from mine and stepping back a few paces. "At first I just thought it was Jessica Burke all over again, but this is – this is _different_."

"How?"

"Teddy, please. Don't get angry at me. You _have_ been spending a lot of time with her, and I heard about your gallant knight-like rescue of her in Care of Magical Creatures this morning."

I threw up my hands in frustration. There was only one way she would've heard about that – those _bloody _Walls. That stupid, stupid bathroom.

"I would've done that for anyone and you _know_ that," I protested.

She carried on as if I'd said nothing. "And you then spent the next two hours in one of the Greenhouses together. Alone." I could sense the waver in her voice and realised that perhaps she wasn't angry, and she needed reassurance. Knock me down and call me Malfoy, but Elena Hewitt was _jealous_.

"Elle," I touched a hand to her shoulder. "Nothing's going on, I promise you. Kirsty and I are just friends. She's new and I'm helping her out." She closed her eyes, considering my words, but I watched as one of her hands clenched into a fist and unclenched, and she dropped her head.

"Regardless," she began, but that threw me as it was. _Regardless_? Did my word mean nothing to her? Her voice was slow as she spoke, as if every word was like pulling teeth, but I was completely dumbfounded. "People are talking, Teddy. They expect me to do something."

I blinked. "Like what?"

She lifted her gaze to mine, and I understood. There was pain in her eyes, but I didn't see it.

She was breaking up with me.

"You're joking, right?" I got out, dread shooting through me and tugging at my heartstrings.

She shook her head. "Merlin knows I don't want to Teddy, I _love_ you, but I can't just sit around and be laughed at like the scorned wife. I have to have respect if I have nothing else." I couldn't believe it – I just couldn't believe it. "If you stopped hanging out with her, just for a while," she pleaded, a lilt of hope in her tone. "Then I wouldn't have to do it."

I didn't say anything.

"Teddy?"

"I can't," I muttered. "She's my friend. It's like asking me to stop hanging out with Lawrence or Guy." I was pleading with her now, she _needed_ to understand. She didn't need to break up with me over this, it was ridiculous – pure speculation and rumours, she couldn't do it just to save _face_.

She didn't speak for the longest time, and neither did I, simply stared at my shoes and wondered what the hell I'd done to deserve this.

"I'm not saying this is over," she began again, and I could tell from her tone she was trying to give me a compromise. "Just a break for a little while – until after Christmas. Then everyone will stop talking and we can just be us again." She took my hand and played with my fingers, but somehow I wasn't comforted by any of it. "Okay?" I could tell she was looking at me, but I wasn't sure I could look back at her. I suddenly felt very tired, as if I'd been awake for hours. I just wanted to get out of that room.

"Okay."

It felt like I was signing my own death warrant.

She gave my hand a final squeeze. "I'm sorry," she said, standing on her tiptoes to give me a kiss on the cheek. I didn't try and stop her, but I didn't return the gesture.

"I love you," I whispered, and I hated how weak I sounded. She seemed to understand that I didn't want her to say anything else, and all I heard was the receding sound of her shoes upon the flagstones as she left the room.

I wandered the hallways for a while after that, not really feeling like returning to the ever cheerful Hufflepuff Common Room, where I knew Guy would be waiting to grill me for details of what happened in my encounter with Elle. Merlin knew she'd act as if nothing had happened, potentially even spin it in a way that made it look like she was doing the right thing because I _was_ cheating on her, but all thoughts about the last hour depressed me so much that I avoided them as much as I could. Subconsciously I wound up on the seventh floor, and thank goodness someone recognised me stumbling around like a lost puppy, and before I knew it I'd spotted someone stepping out of the Fat Lady portrait that I recognised. Perhaps the one person I _really_ wanted to see.

Victoire Weasley.

"Teddy?" She asked, concern immediately evident on her face. "Are you okay?" I opened my mouth to reply, but no words came out. I tried my very best to vocalize everything but it were as if my throat was ice. Without another word she pulled me from the main corridor and behind a tapestry, away from prying eyes. "Tell me what happened." It wasn't a question, but an order.

Victoire. Victoire. She was my fucking _world_.

Before I knew it words were tumbling from my mouth and I could feel my sadness and my anger with each breath, but it almost felt like an out of body experience. I watched myself relay it all to her; Elle had broken up with me because she didn't want to look _weak_. She had her precious reputation to think of, and that was why I was in a crumpled heap on the floor of some passageway. When I'd finished, she didn't even say anything. She simply drew me into a large hug and I let her, not sure if I particularly wanted her to say anything.

Everything _sucked_.

But Victoire was there, so I suppose it wasn't all bad. I think all along I'd gone looking for her first, even if I hadn't been aware of it – how I'd managed to walk myself up seven flights of stairs without even noticing until she popped up right in front of me was completely beyond my understanding, but she was there and I needed to rely on her for just a little time.

I was always leaning on her; I was always a burden to her. When Guy was busy brooding and Lawrence wasn't in the mood for a serious conversation, she was the person I could talk to. Age set us apart in so many ways, but never in understanding – she'd known me for so many years now, and she just understood me. I liked to think I understood her too, but sometimes I wonder if that was just something I told myself back then to make me feel better. I opened myself up to her countless times when I was in trouble, and I could scarcely name an occasion when she'd done the same for me. Back then, as I sat there in her arms on some stupid corridor floor, I'd assumed that was because she had never needed me in the same way. Now I know how stupid I was.

Naive, and so selfishly ignorant.

What mattered to me at that moment was that she was _there_, and when I finally felt like I was ready to speak she steered the topic onto completely nonsensical things. Cheese sandwiches, and shoes. Riddles, goblins, books and stained glass windows. Silly things; but it helped.

Eventually she was walking me back down to the Hufflepuff Common Room, her arm around my waist and mine around her shoulders, and while I felt slightly better I was still so heavy I felt like I would collapse. She seemed to sense this, and sent for my friends as we waited outside the stack of barrels that comprised of the entrance.

For a moment I couldn't say anything, but I squeezed her shoulder. "Thank you," I murmured. This was exactly what I'd needed. She was gentle and warm and absolutely everything I'd wanted her to be – I think she knew it, too.

"Any time, Teddy," she smiled, pushing some of her blonde hair from her eyes. "You can come talk to me any time, alright? I've missed you recently."

I nodded. There were too many people to split my time between these days. Guy, Lawrence. Kirsty. Victoire. Elle–

Guy crawled out the passageway and took one look at me, before he put his arm around my shoulders and I detached myself from Victoire. I spotted sympathy and warmth in his eyes I wasn't used to seeing, and it reminded me of all the reasons I couldn't think of earlier in response to Cassadee's question. He offered the Gryffindor a curt nod of thanks as we turned back to the common room.

"Come on, Theodore," he sighed. "Let's get you drunk."

* * *

Clearly, when sporting a headache as severe as mine the next morning, it wasn't the best time to receive a surprise visit from my dear old Godfather.

Universe?

Fuck. Off.

* * *

**Reviews are like butterbeer on a cold winter's day,**

**~MyWhitelighter**


	3. Something's Afoot

**Hullo again! Only just over 10 days, and I'm back! 8D Hopefully this chapter will be up to par with the rest. I ended up with quite a few anon reviews last time which is a new thing for me, but hello to you all haha! Glad you're enjoying the story. As usual I'd love to hear what everyone has to say - you love it, you hate it, whatever - just drop me a line in the box below and I'll give you all plentiful cookies. **

**IMPORTANT: Over the time between the last chapter and this one, I've actually planned out how the rest of the story is going to go, and I'm warning readers now that there will be quite mature plotlines here - if you don't want to be reading something that might get a little edgy, I'd stay away from this. I don't want to ruin the story by delving into them now, don't say I didn't warn you. There ****will**** be some mature themes.**

**Another random point - I went back and rewrote a lot of the first chapter, so don't be alarmed if it suddenly looks a little different. You don't have to re-read it, none of the events are different, but as I mentioned in my A/N of chapter one I wrote the beginning of this story eons ago and my writing and the way I narrate has since changed, and the fact that the first chapter felt different annoyed me. So yeah, if you want to go back and re-read it you're welcome to, but all the events are the same! **

**But without futher ado - here is the third chapter!**

* * *

**Chapter Three: Something's Afoot**

_"Since writing on toilet walls is done neither for critical acclaim nor financial gain, it could be considered the purest form of art. Discuss."_

_Art? You laugh - you can't help it._

_If you walk along the second floor corridor, turn left, then right, then left again then you'll find yourself at a door. Boys, do not be alarmed by the sign that says 'Girls Only', no one really pays attention to that in this case. Open the door. Walk past the faucets, down the tiled floor until you reach the cubicles, it's the third one on the right that you're looking for. You open the door and step inside. You feel guilty for being here, you almost don't want to look - but it's impossible for you to resist the temptation of the cubicle with the power to crumble someone's reputation. One door, three walls. You pray to Merlin that you won't see your name, and find yourself relieved when the most recently added writing has nothing to do with you;_

**_#3_**_: Elle Hewitt broke up with Teddy Lupin and he spent the whole night wasted in the Hufflepuff common room. Heartbroken or relieved, Ted?_

* * *

"Teddy, are you even listening to me?"

Truthfully, I wasn't. Not really. I was too busy drowning in my own misery and trying desperately not to think about my ex-girlfriend-as-of-yesterday and wondering if she was sitting at the Hufflepuff table at that moment. It was a sparkling winter Saturday, but all I could think about as my gaze trailed out of the window of the Three Broomsticks was how much _better _it would be if the sun hadn't bothered coming out at all. Or didn't shine so bright. Or didn't exist. The pounding in my head was relentless, and bluntly I was more interested in trying to piece together what had happened the night before than I was in whatever Harry was talking about.

It was rare that I ever really drunk myself under the table, but I felt like I was more entitled to let myself get completely plastered considering what happened yesterday – clearly Guy and Lawrence shared that opinion, as I couldn't exactly recall an occasion when my hand or my glass had been empty all night. I remembered a lot of music, dancing, the usual flashes of colour and flying furniture (I never walked into things when I'd been drinking, things walked into _me_) but for some reason I was feeling some strong vibe to do with Lawrence and the Weird Sisters, and I couldn't quite work it out. I never did, actually. To this day Lawrence denies any of my suggestions with such venom that I get the feeling it's probably a bad memory for him. We'll just not mention it to him then, shall we?

"Earth to Teddy," Harry waved a hand in front of my face and I snapped to attention.

"This is Teddy, Earth, do you copy?" I replied without really thinking, stifling back a yawn as I straightened up in my seat. Harry simply raised his eyebrows at me. "I'm just really tired this morning Harry, sorry."

I looked more than tired – to be perfectly honest I _looked_ hungover, and I had a feeling it probably showed. I got a glimpse of my reflection in the pub window and spotted dishevelled clothes (something I'd only thrown on bleary-eyed this morning when someone informed me Harry was downstairs waiting for me), hair in disarray (no time to comb it) and huge bags under my eyes, as if it were a struggle to even keep my eyes open.

(It kind of was).

"Rough night, huh?" He shot me a knowing smile, and I'm sure he was just trying to be cute but it actually served in only irking me a little bit.

I sighed and sloshed my butterbeer around, offering him a weak smile. "You could say that."

I meant it to sound guarded, but it only seemed to amuse my Godfather. "I'm not taking you away from enjoying that storming headache, am I?" Bloody _adults_. Thought they were so mature just because they were old enough to have been in my position more times than I could count. On a normal day, Harry and I got on just fine – he was the best Godfather I could ask for. Attentive, caring, welcoming; when Gran went into St. Mungo's over the summer he gave me a place to stay and my connection through him had given me the family I'd always wanted in the form of the Weasleys. Not to mention he'd been named Godfather by my parents themselves, and that in itself meant a lot more to me than anything else we shared – he, a bond with the friends he had lost, and me, unconditional love for the parents I never knew. I valued Harry above a lot of things.

But that didn't mean he didn't _really piss me off sometimes._

"Don't patronise me, Harry," I glared, adding more bite than I felt but using it as a suitable warning not to press the subject. I was more than aware of his opinion of drinking at my age, but the response that I always kept inside my head because of how inappropriate it was _did_ flash across the forefront of my mind. At my age he was stopping a Dark Lord, of course he'd never given himself over to the joys of getting wasted until his teen years were nearly a thing of the past.

But hell, if Harry had spent his seventh year _drinking_ then the chances were I probably wouldn't even be alive today, so I bit my tongue. Of course Harry was wonderful, and I couldn't let my sour mood destroy that.

He had the good grace to look sheepish, though. "Sorry, Ted. I probably shouldn't have dragged you out to lunch without owling ahead first anyway."

"Why _are_ you here?" I asked, slurping my butterbeer and grimacing at the sudden movement, but I was still curious.

"A talk to OWL level students," he shrugged. "About the importance of Defence Against the Dark Arts. It was somewhat unscheduled, but the usual deal." Ah, the perils of being Head Auror, subjected to many guest-speaking roles at public and not so public events. In my younger years I'd often wondered if Harry did more Dark-Wizard-Talking than Dark-Wizard-Catching in his time on the job. Of course now I knew better.

I nodded in understanding, but said nothing. I could see concern pass over Harry's features, but I wasn't in the mood to be my normal bantering self with him – quite simply I didn't have the energy. It'd been completely drained from me since my stint into the Entrance Hall last night, and I had a feeling this dejected cloud hanging over me wouldn't leave for a while yet.

"Did you get my letter?" He asked, poking some salad around his plate and looking to move the conversation along.

I tried not to laugh at the irony of it all, and nodded. "Yeah."

He hesitated before replying, and I knew instantly what he was going to say before the words had even formed on the tip of his tongue. "Have you considered the internship I wrote about?"

"I don't really want to talk about it right now." With everything else, my future was the _last_ thing on my mind when making it through the present seemed to be such a top priority.

My brush off caused him to frown disapprovingly. "Look Ted, I know, but graduation is just around the corner and you really can't—"

"_No_, Harry."

My tone was firm and resolute, and I stared determinedly out the window. The air became thick between us, space there that I wasn't used to, but I didn't want him to keep pressing the subject when thoughts of what would happen after Christmas, let alone the summer, were turning my stomach.

I almost allowed myself to sigh in relief when he let the subject drop, but the next words he spoke in an attempt at peace only served in shattering that conception.

"How's Elle?"

It was a clear-cut attempt at sticking to a safe subject, after all we _had_ been dating steadily for a good year and a half until this point, so it had always been one of those subjects which people around me had come to rely on and fall back on in conversation. Now it simply left me feeling just as empty as the night before, but now with my thoughts well within my coherent clutches, more than anything I felt a little _pissed_ with the whole thing.

I let out a bitter laugh. "We broke up, actually." I felt awful for taking a minute pleasure in the way Harry's face fell along with his attempt at conversation, but the awkwardness that settled between us served to rid me of my satisfaction. His every attempt at talking to me today had been rebuffed and a complete disaster, and guilt was beginning to gnaw at my insides when I saw him turn his gaze back to his food.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he muttered quietly. I could tell part of him wanted to ask why, but I wasn't particularly in the mood to care and share about how I'd been dumped (even if it _was_ temporary) for the sole purpose of the Head Girl maintaining her no-nonsense pristine reputation, even if there really was _no_ nonsense for her to be trying to detach herself from. I felt like a bloody scapegoat, and it was beginning to make me angry.

I sighed. "I'm sorry, Harry, but I'm actually not really that hungry. I'm feeling really tired so I might just head back up to the castle?" I finally met his gaze, pleading with him to understand that he hadn't done anything wrong – I just needed to be on my own for a bit, and away from the stifling table and even more suffocating conversation.

"Let me walk you back –"

"Uh, I'd rather go alone, if that's okay," I hadn't meant it to sound like a harsh rebuttal, so I offered him a compromise at his defeated expression. "I'd love to come to yours for Christmas, though."

He blinked, as if he didn't actually believe I'd agree to what he'd suggested in writing. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," I agreed without abandon. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be." The warm smile that broke out across his features made it feel worth it, and we exchanged a few departing words before I left the pub.

I hated the way everything had become so jutted and awkward, when the Three Broomsticks always used to be a place we would visit together. When I was a kid Harry had always done his best to be involved in my life, and while I loved Gran to bits that didn't mean she wasn't an old woman, and as a young, energetic boy growing up with no siblings, Harry had been such a dose of fresh air that I'd clung onto him like a lifeline. He'd take me out for afternoons where we'd talk about everything and nothing, and he'd let me come for lunch with him at the Broomsticks and treat me as an adult and spoil me like a child in equal measure, to the point where I quite simply _adored_ him. Now, of course, things were different.

Harry had his own children to raise – second year James, and his younger siblings Albus and Lily, and over time he had less time to spare for me. At first through my tumultuous early teens it had been a source of deep resentment, but once I'd matured I was able to see just how readily Harry wanted me as a part of _that_ family, not as a separate one altogether, and I was more than pleased to grant him that wish. That didn't change things, though; the intervals between him writing got longer, the time between us seeing each other only expanding, but I had to remind myself he wasn't my father. He had responsibilities to his own children, children that weren't me. Harry _wasn't_ my dad.

I couldn't expect things from him that a son should. Still, I couldn't quite help myself.

* * *

Later that afternoon was a good representation of how I usually spent my Saturdays in my teens. What a lot of people don't understand about Hogwarts is that it's far more a community than a school, that the amount of time we spent outside of classes and left to our own devices far outweighed the time set aside for learning, so essentially all that it was to us was a castle with hundreds of students aged eleven to eighteen within it. So the simple decisions were; what do you do to occupy your time outside of lessons, and who did you choose to spend it with?

I'd been pretty set from day one. I'd always attracted a lot of attention with my name and my colour changing hair, and that was what brought me to Guy and Lawrence in the first place. Maybe one day I'll tell you about that, but right now I don't really have the energy.

We were sat outside one of the Greenhouses – Three or Five, I couldn't remember, the glass wall stretching behind us in both directions and the expanse of the grounds in front of us. If you hadn't noticed by now, I spent a lot of time in or around the Greenhouses. While Hufflepuff didn't have their links with Herbology that they used to when the Head of House was the Herbology Professor, the legacy of it still lived on. Plus the current Professor just so happened to be an old family friend who doted on me while I was in school, so he turned a blind eye to us spending so much extra time in there. It was a place where Hufflepuffs were comfortable, and more importantly it was where _I_ was comfortable, so it seemed like a suitable place to be.

I turned to lazily look at Guy, who had pulled a cigarette from his pocket and had lit it, not really caring who was around to see. Well, he acted like he didn't care, but there was a reason we were sat on the south side of the Greenhouses – so he didn't _have_ to, as we were hidden from the main bulk of the castle. Lawrence held out his hand for the light and Guy passed it over to him. He caught me staring and held out a cigarette for me. I shook my head.

"If you ever had an excuse to smoke up, Ted," Lawrence pointed out, a crooked grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Being dumped by Elle would be it."

I shook my head. "You know I don't smoke." I never had, really. It was just one of those habits they had that I'd managed to ignore.

"I'd always thought," Guy muttered as he breathed out smoke through the corner of his mouth. "That you'd grow out of your little saint act someday – that just one of these days you'd be lighting up with the rest of us. Now of course I know it's not an act." He placed it back in his mouth and breathed in deeply. "I admire you for that."

Taken aback by what I _thought_ was a compliment (I couldn't be sure), I shrugged. "Thanks, I think."

"You're welcome."

"What happened, Ted?" Lawrence asked, tapping the tip so the ashen ends of the cigarette floated to the ground. "Last night you weren't really in the mood for talking."

I still didn't particularly want to talk about it. "Did you sing some Weird Sisters songs yesterday?"

"No." His reply was a little _too_ quick, but I'd press him about it later. "Ted, come on. You and Elle... you've been it for ages. What went wrong?"

"I still don't really want to talk about it." I echoed my thoughts.

Lawrence shifted uncomfortably where he sat, and took another drag for lack of something to do. "Look, I know we don't really talk about the serious shit that often –"

I rolled my eyes. "Or ever?"

"Or ever," he conceded with the tug of a smirk. "But you can talk to us, right? If it's important to you it's important to us. Or something."

I looked between him and Guy – Guy said nothing. He simply kept smoking and staring straight ahead as if we weren't even here, his expression vacant. I was used to that.

"Truth is, I'm still working it out myself," I muttered. Lawrence raised an eyebrow, Guy remained detached. "Apparently people think Kirsty Tinner and I are having some kind of thing."

Stubbing the cigarette on the ground, Guy finally spoke. "You're not?" It was smarmy and I resisted the urge to swat him upside the head.

"_No_, of course not. I'm not you."

"I'm insulted."

"Shame," I shot back. He said nothing, and lit up his second – I vaguely wondered if he was stressed out about something. "Well apparently people expected Elle to do something about it," the thought made me scowl and I looked away. "So she did."

Lawrence let out a long breath, pushing some of his blonde hair out of his eyes. "Wow. Sucks, man."

_Sucks, man_ didn't quite seem to cover it, but I appreciated the effort he'd made.

"It's her loss," Guy returned indifferently, and I was bizarrely warmed by the firmness of his tone. "Bitch can be so uptight sometimes."

"Guy," I frowned. He didn't apologise. A companionable silence took us for a few moments, as the pair of them smoked and I adjusted my jacket to fit more comfortably around my shoulders. "She wants to get back together," I let it hang in the air. "After Christmas."

Lawrence paused in his attempts to blow smoke rings and looked at me. "Do you want to get back together?"

I shrugged. "I guess so."

The conversation ended there, but I didn't feel dissatisfied. That was all we _needed_ to say.

Guy broke the silence. "How was lunch with the saviour of our time?"

I snorted. "Awkward. But I decided to go to his for Christmas. Sorry, I know we had plans." Lawrence shrugged, and I got the impression the plans weren't that exclusive.

"I guess," Guy mused thoughtfully, taking another drag. "I could go home... might be fun."

I raised an eyebrow. "You hate going home."

"I feel inspired."

"What's up with you today?" He was acting weird, even by Guy standards. Like Lawrence said, we may not talk about the serious stuff often as the three of us, but that didn't mean we didn't talk about it full stop. These guys had been my companions since first year, and we owed a lot to each other. Even Guy, as aloof and uncaring as he tried to act, we'd watched his exterior crumble before – the fact that he'd let us see it said more than he would ever be able to express in words, and likewise. I was at one of my lowest yesterday, and they'd taken me straight back in and had me running a high before the night was out.

The serious stuff? That's what I had Victoire for. My beautiful and unblemished Victoire – completely untainted by everything in my circle of friends. Of the smoking and the drinking and the untamed teenage nightlife I had been sucked into; she was unaffected by it all, and I loved that about her. I could escape and live through her, and she would let me. She let me every _damn_ time, and with my wonderful gift of hindsight I hate her for it. Oh, Merlin, I hate her for it.

Guy didn't react to my question and ignored it. "I might throw a Christmas party," he suggested, shrugging.

"By which you mean you want us to organise something at your place?" Lawrence supplied with a dry edge to his tone. Guy's smirk was his answer and I sighed because I knew we'd do it. Guy's house was magnificent – well, I say house, but what I really mean here is some kind of _mansion_.

We'd spent many a summer in the past out in his back garden right where his patio met the grass, hidden from view of the main house by the old shed wall, with a couple of bottles of firewhiskey and something to smoke, using it as a getaway and pretending we didn't have to go back to school in September. I always remembered those days as a haze of heady warmth where every moment blended peacefully into the next, something to remember fondly but never speak of – those were private moments, just for the three of us. No one else ever needed to know. So no one did.

"Guy," I broke the silence once more, something bothering me in the back of my mind that I hadn't exactly managed to get rid of. "What did you do to Cassadee Brenup yesterday?" The thought was there in the back of my mind, and it was inescapable.

The question had him hesitating for the smallest of moments, before he took his time deliberating over an answer as he tipped the ash off the end of his cigarette. Eventually he rolled his head around lazily so he was looking at me, and the intensity of his gaze had me shifting where I was sitting.

"Do you really want to know?" He sounded doubtful, even a little contemptuous, and I wondered.

_Did I?_

I thought of Cassadee in the Entrance Hall yesterday evening calling Guy a jerk and shivering through the force of her sobs.

I looked away.

"I guess not."

* * *

I passed Elle in the corridor too, which hadn't been awkward at all. Oh no, wait, I'm lying, it was potentially one of the most awkward experiences of my life. The three of us were just returning from our jaunt outside and were headed down to the common room to relax and talk off the rest of the afternoon, or even get started on some work that was due in on Monday (who am I kidding?) and we passed as we were walking through the corridor.

"Watch out Ted," Lawrence had whispered. "Hewitt Patrol." My gaze was snapping up in an instant, and I watched her coming in the opposite direction, flanked by Alice Finch-Fletchly (her surname is just a necessity, alright?) and another Hufflepuff girl, Felicia Callister. I hated the way Lawrence laughed and smacked me on the shoulder, knowing I was completely falling over my feet.

At the noise he made Elle looked over, and our eyes locked for a brief moment. Of course, it didn't last long before she deliberately turned away and breezed past us without another word. Seriously, world, what did I _do_? Guy turned and followed where she walked, a look of disdain on his face.

"Is anyone else feeling the dip in temperature?" He smirked. I rolled my eyes and shoved him in the shoulder. "Look, Theodore, in all seriousness – do you really want to get back together with an Ice Queen?"

Lawrence grinned. "She's not exactly bed-warming material. Especially since you guys never –"

"_Alright_, okay, thank you!" I cut them off. "I really do _not_ need this conversation right now. I'm miserable, so get me drunk or something."

"We already did that."

"Well do it again damnit, because I'm _still_ fucking miserable."

Guy pondered this. "Give us twenty minutes, don't go anywhere. I have an idea." Without another word he grabbed Lawrence's arm and hauled him in the direction of the common room.

"What am I supposed to do in the meantime?" I shouted down the corridor. Guy simply smirked in response and turned the corner.

Having been momentarily abandoned and forced not to move, I shoved my hands in my pockets and went to examine one of the portraits. I'll admit, I was a little apprehensive about whatever Guy had planned, but I'll tell you now it wasn't anything big – just a few mixed drinks he wanted to test on somebody, and I was a more than willing subject. The relevant part of this event was what happened to me while I was waiting, not how plastered I ended up after it in an attempt to escape the bizarre feelings my next encounter left me reeling with.

I hadn't noticed I'd been approached until one of them cleared their throat to get my attention, and I turned around. Just great.

Gryffindors.

Get rid of any stupid misconceptions Harry, Ron or Hermione gave you about Gryffindor house back in the day, because while they might have been the epitome of all things good about the Wizarding World back then, I can guarantee you that now they're the complete opposite. It could just be a fluke year, but I've been given more Hell from the four Gryffindors in front of me in the last seven years than I could get from a bunch of Slytherins in a _lifetime_.

Picture this: Teddy Lupin arrives at Hogwarts for his very first year, having been rumoured to be the son of the Gryffindor war hero Remus Lupin and dropped off at Platform 9 ¾ by the great Gryffindor saint Harry Potter – the expectation is there, he's going to be in Gryffindor. But no, he's not. He's placed in Hufflepuff, because it looks like he takes after his mother a lot more than his father or his Godfather. When confronted by people in Gryffindor who had been expecting him to join them, suffice to say the eleven-year-olds weren't best pleased.

They may have "accidentally" spilt pasta sauce down his front during lunch in an attempt to make him look more Gryffindor like. He might have "accidentally" thrown the bowl of pasta at them. A beautiful friendship blossomed. Not.

Not to mention it was a widely known fact that Martin Cooper had been chasing after the hem of Elle's skirt for months before I asked her out during sixth year. If they hadn't spent years hating me before that, their ringleader positively _detested_ me once that had happened. There were four of them to contend with – Martin, Ed Hesterson, Amanda Price and Jessica Burke. Jess had always been one of the nice ones, but she let herself get strung along by them. I knew she liked me at least a little because I helped her cat down from a tree in third year when Ed refused to do it. Of course apparently that simple act of kindness was a little too "Gryffindor-like" for their tastes, and had only hated me even more for it.

Don't worry though, it's mutual. Lawrence and I hate their guts. Guy is, as always, indifferent.

"Lupin," Martin sneered. "All alone again I see?"

"Cooper," I returned with a dry laugh. "I didn't even realise you knew _how_ to get to the Dungeons."

He was undeterred. "I heard about you and Elle," I narrowed my eyes. "Such a shame." His voice was dripping with malice and I did my best to ignore it. This was just the first of many shots, and I knew he was just trying to get to me. "Maybe now she'll realise she'll need someone with a little bit more to offer than you."

I blinked, feigning misunderstanding. "Oh, you mean _you_," I laughed, flapping a hand. "Sorry, I just find it so hard to take you seriously when you think you're being clever."

There was a small laugh off to my right – Jessica, but a sharp look from Ed had her shutting up. "Listen Lupin, we're here to make you a proposition," Ed pressed, folding his arms.

"Why would I even be interested in anything you have to say?"

"Because we know there's something going on between you and Victoire Weasley."

I choked. "Excuse me?"

"You heard us," Amanda raised her chin defiantly. "We saw you yesterday, going off into that passageway yesterday, alone. Don't bother denying it."

"And we're going to write it all over the Walls if you don't agree to our terms."

I was completely dumbfounded. These guys had the _gall_ to come over here and tell me that I was having some kind of thing with one of my best friends, and to even try and blackmail me with it? It was bad enough that rumours like this were the reason Elle and I were broken up at the moment, and to take advantage of Kirsty was one thing – but to try and take advantage of a lifelong friendship like mine and Victoire's? That was bullshit.

"Try and write what you want," I muttered calmly. "Because there's nothing going on, and the Walls only allow the truth to be seen, remember?"

"Sure we do," Martin shrugged, his eyes revealing nothing. "But we can write what _is_ the truth and let Hogwarts students do what they do best; assume. Imagine... Teddy Lupin going _straight_ to Victoire after breaking up with Elena Hewitt, spending the next hour in a secret passageway with her, alone, emerging with their arms around each other." I could see he took some kind of vicious delight in this. "I heard you tell Guy Fitzburton and Lawrence Mavis you want to get back together with her. Rather sends the wrong message, doesn't it?"

I narrowed my eyes. "What's your problem, Cooper? Haven't we grown out of all this by now?"

He actually threw back his head and laughed. "Listen, as much as we don't like you Lupin, this wouldn't actually be just to ruin _your_ reputation."

"Victoire's?" I asked, bemused by the turn of events. "What the hell did she ever do to you?"

His jaw simply set in response, and Ed jumped in. "You think your cute little childhood thing is all that, but don't pretend like you know her."

"What the fuck is your problem?" I growled. "I know her plenty better than _you_ do."

"Look, are you going to let us blackmail you or are we going to play Who-Knows-Who-Best for the rest of the afternoon?"

I shook my head, already getting irritated by them. "I don't know what you're trying to achieve, but you can forget it. Write whatever crap you want, it's not going to make any difference to her reputation or mine." I shoved past Martin, not wanting anything more to do with them, ready to search out Guy and forget the whole encounter.

"You know her well then, do you?" Martin hollered after me. "How about what she was doing on Halloween this year?" I froze in my tracks and I could tell my reaction had been exactly what he wanted, but I couldn't help it.

Halloween had been a mess this year. After the feast the Houses retreated to their respective common rooms for the traditional follow-up parties, in which the younger years would be sent to their dorms with snacks and treats, and the older ones would stay in the common room and get drunk and celebrate the _true_ spirit of Halloween. This year had been different, though. I was talking with Guy about nothing in particular over a bottle of firewhiskey, when she'd stumbled in. Her hair was a mess and she was wearing what seemed like the remains of some kind of costume (the Hufflepuffs had endeavoured to avoid that particular tradition) and her eyes were wide and darting around the room, searching. I had no idea how she'd gotten in, but thank Merlin I noticed her before no one else did.

I'd left Guy and was at her side in a flash, taking off my jacket and wrapping around her and she simply clutched the front of my shirt tightly, fisting it into creases until she was beginning to hurt me. "Vick, what's wrong?" I'd asked, completely stunned.

"Teddy," she got out, her bottom lip wobbling. "Teddy, _Teddy_." Without another word I'd led her from the bustling common room and through the tunnels of the Hufflepuff dominion until we reached the seventh year dormitory. She was shaking, and my concern levels were through the roof.

"Victoire, what happened? Are you okay?" She couldn't focus on me and her pupils were dilated.

"Teddy," she murmured again, and without warning burst into tears. I brought her close to me and she sobbed without abandon into the front of my (rather nice) shirt, and all I could do was hold her and rub soothing circles into her back. "Teddy I'm so stupid." she shook with the force of her outburst and I held her gently by the shoulders.

"Tell me what's wrong," I pressed, but she shook her head.

"I can't."

She shook her head so determinedly and looked so desperate that I didn't feel like I could protest. "Victoire, _please_," I begged. "I hate seeing you like this."

"Then – then don't, I'll just _go_—"

"_No_," I stopped her, and pulled her back to me. "Sorry, I just – I'm scared shitless here V, tell me what to do. What do you want me to do?"

"Just let me stay here for a while," she pleaded, and wrapped her arms around my middle once more. She ended up staying the night in the boy's dorms; a sharp look from me curled up with her on the bed stopped Guy, Lawrence and our other roommates from making any comments or too much noise as they traipsed in in as the party came to a close – she was sound asleep, and I couldn't do much else but make sure she was comfortable.

In the morning I'd woken up to find the space next to me empty, and also cold – she'd clearly left a lot earlier. When I pressed her about it that morning she simply threw me a huge smile, thanked me for being there for her the night before and asked if I would kindly forget about it. Of course I didn't, but over the following weeks she began to get increasingly irritated whenever I brought it up, to the point that I'd just stopped. But that didn't mean I didn't want to know. Merlin knew it was rare that Victoire ever lost her composure around _anyone_, and for to have come to me in such a state really worried me. I didn't want anything to happen to her, and most of all I hadn't wanted her to suffer alone.

But, of course, once she'd reassured me a hundred times that she was okay and she'd just drunk a little too much, I'd let the matter drop. On the other hand the four people stood behind me right at this moment were Gryffindors, and they might even know what happened.

The temptation to turn around had caught me, and my hand twitched.

"Don't know her so well after all then, Lupin?" I heard Martin taunting me. I so wanted to be the bigger man and to ignore him, but this was my best friend. I couldn't just let it go. "You have a choice. Either we tell _you_ what happened... or we write it on the Walls. Feeling a little more like negotiating now?"

I stiffened, and finally turned to face them. "What do you want?" I eyed them warily, and watched as their faces lit up in triumph.

"Nothing at the moment, thanks darling," Amanda tossed some of her black hair over one shoulder. "But we'll be in touch. Just know for now that you better do everything we tell you to, or Victoire's biggest secret ends up in a place where the whole school can see it."

And that, my friends, is where it all _really _started fucking up.

I couldn't do it to her, I couldn't. I didn't even know what I was defending her from, but the look of desperation and the fierceness with which she'd cried in my arms on Halloween night was enough for me to know that I had to protect her from something, no matter the cost. I hated them – I hated every one of those stupid Gryffindors, even Jessica Burke at this point because she was _helping_ them. Victoire was a Gryffindor too, she was one of them, and they would still do this to her. Then of course there was the matter of what the four of them wanted me to do.

You'll find out, but it wasn't pretty; it started off reasonably lightly, but as their demands got more and more out of hand the situation got worse and worse. My first order of business, though? Definitely find out whatever Victoire was hiding, and then I could prepare a proper defence if the time ever came when they asked for something I couldn't fulfil.

Am I entertaining you so far? I'd hope as much. Don't worry, I won't call you a sadist or anything, that's what I have Guy for, but feel free to keep following. There's at least a thousand other things and seven more months to get through before you work out why I'm sitting here writing everything in some dumb journal like a twelve-year-old-puff-princess, contemplating just how I managed to simultaneously ruin my seventh year, future career prospects and drive away the woman I'm in love with so completely that I'm sure she'll never even _consider_ speaking to me again.

"Teddy?" There was a sharp rap at the door that pulled me from my writing reverie. "Victoire's here, she says she wants to talk to you."

_Oh, shit_.

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**~MyWhitelighter**


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